Hesitation

From the roof of Aurra's ship, Dia watches Aurra and Bossk pace impatiently. That high up, he can see the white-armoured legs of the clone hostages across the clearing. They've been tied to one of the trees, out of earshot and almost out of sight – luckily for Dia, who intends to free them.

"I'm grabbing my binoculars," he calls to Aurra and Bossk, clambering down from the ship's roof.

Bossk grunts, sitting down to check his blaster. Aurra ignores Dia, who hurries into the ship, pulling his wire-cutters from his pocket. He'll have to work quickly.

He pries open the control panel and scans the wires before carefully cutting a couple of them. Moving to the next panel, he unscrews a stabilizer essential to the weapons systems and pockets it. Tapping his chin nervously, he scans the control board.

Is there anything else I can do? No, no – I don't have time. He replaces the panels and grabs his binoculars from his seat.

Aurra frowns at him as he steps out of the ship.

"Sorry." He holds up the macrobinoculars. "Couldn't find them anywhere."

"Hmph." Aurra sits on the fallen log beside Bossk, also checking over her blaster.

Dia peers up at the sky through the binoculars, keeping an eye out for approaching ships. With the regiment in such need of medical supplies, the Republic is likely to send reinforcements soon. But for now, the skies are clear.

Dia lowers his binoculars and groans, clutching his stomach. "Ughhh… I don't feel well."

"Stop your complaining," Aurra snaps, irritated

"My stomach really hurts," Dia whines. "Mph – I think I'm gonna be sick!"

"Ugh, go over there!" Bossk cries, covering his nose.

Dia stumbles away, doubled over and still groaning, out of the clearing. When he's left the bounty hunters' sight and earshot, he straightens up. He peers around a tree at the clone hostages, just feet away.

One of the men is kicking away a carnivorous snail attempting to eat his leg, and the other seems to be doing breathing exercises to stay calm. Both wear white armour painted with rust-coloured designs, minus their helmets, which sit well out of reach. Their faces and hairstyles are exactly identical.

Dia pauses. If Boba's also a clone, then this isn't this what he'll look like when he's older? He tilts his head. It's not a bad face, not at all.

The breathing-exercise clone apparently gives up on his meditation and looks up – catching sight of Dia.

He narrows his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Hush, Razor," the other clone hisses, sending the carnivorous snail flying away. He smiles reassuringly at Dia. "Hey, kid. My name's Stak. You seem like you're not completely on-board with the bounty hunters over there. D'you think you could free us?"

Dia steps out from behind the tree. "I will. I'll make a distraction, and you two can run away while the bounty hunters are busy."

Razor grins. "Good thinking, kid."

Dia doesn't want to ruin Boba's revenge. But neither can he let these innocent men be killed. Boba had been just as troubled by Bossk's decision to take hostages – Dia could tell.

Boba will understand, he tells himself as he loosens the hostages' ropes.

________

The bomb explodes with an echoing rumble, startling Boba even though he was expecting it. Shouts rise up from the soldiers in the camp, along with running footsteps. Boba breathes shallowly, heart hammering.

Did it work? Is he dead? Have I avenged buir?

He can't tell. The shouting has died down, but voices still drift, too faint to make out. He hesitates, then, crouching, starts sneaking to the center of the camp. He darts from tent to tent, but everyone seems to be near Windu's tent.

Holding his breath, Boba peers over a stack of boxes. His stomach drops.

Windu is there – alive and perfectly fine. His arms are crossed as he speaks with his commander.

" – triggered by a carnivorous snail, General. Someone must have snuck into the camp. We'll start searching for the culprit right away."

"I'm just glad none of the clones were hurt," Windu says with a short sigh. "The attack was clearly targeted on me. I'll search as well."

"Yes, sir."

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff! Boba screams internally as he crawls quickly away from the camp. When he's out of earshot – or hopes he is – he fumbles for his comm and calls Aurra.

"We just heard the explosion," Aurra's voice crackles. "Is Windu dead?"

"It didn't work," Boba whispers, trying not to panic. "The plan failed."

"Kriff," Aurra spits. "Alright, here's what you're going to do: blow up the munitions tent – and quickly."

"Blow up – ! But the clones will die, too!"

"This is your only way out. We'll get Windu another day. Or if we're lucky, he'll die in the explosion, too."

"But – "

The comm beeps as Aurra hangs up. Boba lowers his hands, trembling.

This isn't what I wanted to do. I only wanted Windu to die.

Still, he finds his feet and ducks into the ammunitions tent, on the outskirts of the camp. Despite the battles, the tent is still well-stocked. The explosion will be enough to destroy most of the camp.

What would buir do? … He'd probably go through with it. Even though clones will die. Wouldn't he?

With difficulty, Boba swallows the lump in his throat and opens a crate of grenades. The round bombs stare up at him like eyes, and he hesitates again.

Would Dia do this? No, of course not. The clones are innocent – more or less. Dia wouldn't kill them. ... But he'd forgive me. 

He reaches into the crate. His hand freezes, hovering above one grenade. Just one click of a button, and the tent will explode. He'll be able to get away, and he might even kill Windu.

The Tuskens would disapprove, he realizes. Shaan, and K'Rai, and A'Dakmu would disapprove. Innocents shouldn't be harmed on the path to revenge.

He takes his hand back. He can't do it – he won't.

The tent flap rustles behind him, and he spins around, reaching for his blaster. A rifle is already pointed at his face, inches away.

The clone on the other end of the rifle flinches back in shock. "Boba?!"